


A Study In Aerodynamics

by Chaotic_Eclipse



Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A bunch of MISC original characters, Gen, Military Secrets, Murder, Some of the plot is vague on purpose, Still, Tags Are Hard, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 10:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaotic_Eclipse/pseuds/Chaotic_Eclipse
Summary: "Two days ago there was a break in at a research facility on the Yokota air base," he starts finally, sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs, hands curling around his shin. "Documents for a prototype weapon were stolen out of a secure vault." Sherlock's eyebrow raises as he speaks, her attention wavering and drifting slightly."So? Stuff like that goes missing all the time, are you sure they didn't just 'misplace' it?"OrAn Adaption Of The Adventure Of The Bruce-Partington plans Miss Sherlock style





	A Study In Aerodynamics

**Author's Note:**

> SO THREE MONTHS LATE AND I'M BACK. (I'm so sorry Anon.) I swear one of these days I'm going to get better about posting stuff more regularly....Anyway I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> As usual none of this is beta'd so all my mistakes are my own.

She was never a fan of storms, never really enjoyed watching the way the rain sheeted down from the sky and turned the world a diluted shade of grey. Often she found herself cooped up in her room at her desk, working on one thing or another until her eyes burned and her body reminded her that she did, in fact, absolutely require more than just chocolate as sustenance. 

She was never a fan of storms, but the rain was a fine sight better than the rumbling roar of thunder that rattles through the window panes and the floors, disturbing both her and Wato from their reading. It brings her attention up from her computer screen and she stares out the window in front of her, lips drawing into a disapproving frown. The rainy season was a part of living in Japan, coming like clockwork every year. But Sherlock knows this isn't just that, knows that something much worse lurks off the shores, reaching out with arms like vines to lash at the land before it with a sinister promise of what's to come. It closes in day by day, the menacing rotation offering them peace between each wave of rain and inlaid thunderstorms that set Sherlock on edge and make her dig herself deeper into her work to ignore them until the thunder rumbles through her skull and she can't.

"Looks like it's starting to get worse," Wato says from behind her and she turns to look over her shoulder at her. Wato is focused on her phone, scrolling through various news articles and Sherlock can see enough of the angry, bolded text it makes her snort. They both cringe as another rumble of thunder rattles through their space and Sherlock glares her displeasure at the window as Wato shifts uncomfortably in her chair. "I don't like it when it gets close like this."

Sherlock's eyes flick from the window to focus back on Wato and she never really considered what it might sound like to her. The fact that the cracking-roar may remind Wato of a bomb going off. "I don't either," Sherlock offers, turning away before Wato's eyes catch hers. Thankfully, she doesn't ask and Sherlock doesn't elaborate so they fall back into a companionable -- if not a little disturbed thanks to the oncoming storm -- silence.

It's another twenty minutes, by Sherlock's estimate, before the storm is overhead. Her eyes flick from her screen to the window again, watching the way the branches outside batter the glass as they suffer under the gale of wind and rain. She shuts the screen off in response to a rumble of thunder loud enough it buzzes in her chest and forces an involuntary noise out of Wato. She turns, rubbing her temples before rising to her feet and making her way towards the door.

"Let's go see how Hatano is doing," she says over her shoulder. Wato starts in response to her voice, blinking owlishly at her before practically jumping out of her chair. She's nervous and Sherlock notes the way the younger woman's hands shake as she collects her phone and her book. It's not something she normally does, but she's not going to get anymore work done and Wato needs something to distract herself beyond Sherlock's 'less than stellar company.'

Hatano is, predictably, in front of the TV when they reach the large sitting room and Sherlock listens to half of a report about coastal flooding, torrential downpours and high winds before she tunes it out. It means Tokyo and the rest of the affected areas would slow to a crawl for a few days, keeping everyone not essential to city function inside.

Including them.

Wato makes it halfway into the room before Hatano says something Sherlock doesn't hear, the sight outside having brought her up short. The rain falls in a deluge, drifting across the garden outside and sending everything into wind driven disarray. A flash of lightning drives her away from the glass and into the sitting room, flinching at the ensuing rumble. Wato has situated herself as far away from the windows as she can get, attention fixed on the TV and already in the middle of a conversation. She doesn't interrupt, instead finding a spot against the wall to lean and watch, offering a half smile when both Wato and Hatano look in her direction.

"Too loud, I can't concentrate," she says by way of explanation. It's only half truth, since she's known to be able to tune out storms like this before, but she's not about to admit she was doing this for Wato's sake as well. It's not just her she has to concern herself with anymore and while Wato is more than capable of taking care of herself -- and by extension both of them, even if Sherlock insists she's plenty able to do it herself just as she had been -- there are small concessions she's okay with making.

After all, this was her partner and she needed Wato to be in top form if anything did happen.

It's an hour before something does, indeed, happen. Sherlock having migrated from the wall to the arm of the chair Wato settled on. The bell rings, startling them all from the story Hatano is telling them and Sherlock is up and halfway to the door before anyone can ask who it could possibly be. She wasn't sure who she was expecting; a stranded citizen needing to borrow a phone or looking for a place to stay for a few, a desperate client, the police.

She wasn't expecting her brother and it draws her up short when she pulls the door open to see him standing there, umbrella held close. "What are you doing here?" She asks, carefully masking her surprise with casual indifference.

"Hello to you too," he replies and something about his tone sets off a warning in the back of Sherlock's mind. "We need to talk," he adds, gesturing with his free hand for permission to come inside. Sherlock moves, pulling the door open further for him as he passes by, folding his umbrella and shaking it outside. The action is of little use and he gives up a second later, leaving it on the mat with his shoes before heading towards Sherlock and Wato's apartment.

"Wato!" She calls as she shuts the door then heads after him and it's only a moment before the other woman joins them, confusion and surprise plainly written on her face. 

"Kento-san," Wato starts, looking between the two of them as she gingerly takes the chair she vacated an hour and change previous, "What--" she trails off as Sherlock drops into her own chair and crosses her legs, propping her chin up on her palm.

"He was just getting to that," Sherlock comments, her eyes flicking to her brother as Wato's attention jumps between them like a spectator at a tennis match before finally settling on him as well. He doesn't say anything, frowning, and Sherlock is aware he's trying to gather his thoughts. It bothers her more, having never quite seen him like this.

"So," she prompts after the silence stretches on too long, "What's this thing we need to talk about?" He doesn't make a habit of just showing up like this. Most of the time Sherlock is already involved in a case when he does, giving her extra insight, more information, or a summary of what happened in the aftermath.

"I'm here because the Government's been hounding me and I realize I might be in over my head," he says after another silence and Sherlock has to swallow a harsh bark of laughter. Him, in over his head, it's hard for her to believe. "It's not funny, Sherlock. This is serious," he adds, clearly having read every bit of the expression she's trying not to wear. With effort she smooths the barely restrained amusement out of her features and fixes him with neutral interest.

"Two days ago there was a break in at a research facility on the Yokota air base," he starts finally, sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs, hands curling around his shin. "Documents for a prototype weapon were stolen out of a secure vault." Sherlock's eyebrow raises as he speaks, her attention wavering and drifting slightly.

"So? Stuff like that goes missing all the time, are you sure they didn't just 'misplace' it?"

Wato's protest to Sherlock's casual near dismissal is cut off by Kento sitting forward, the motion dragging her attention back from where it had settled on the wall. "If it was misplaced, Sherlock, they would have found it by now. You're treating this like it's something inconsequential when it's potentially devestating." He stares at her until she gives in, rolling her eyes and waving at him to go on. "This prototype could easily change the tide in any war or bring about the total destruction of any country the holder could think of."

She knows the idea is supposed to scare her but it falls short as most things usually do, one shoulder rising in a half shrug. "And?" Kento's expression tightens, lips thinning as a muscle jumps in his cheek. She's still refusing to see the danger and she knows it's frustrating him. "What do you want me to do about it?" She asks after seeing the change in him, her head tilting slowly. "These plans could be anywhere by now, while the storm is going to keep anyone from leaving Japan there's still a lot of ground to cover." If whoever was responsible was worth their salt, Sherlock knew they wouldn't have stayed in Tokyo, they would have gone anywhere else in Japan as fast as they possibly could and bunkered down until the Typhoon finally passes.

"I need you to find them."

Sherlock huffs, spreading her hands slightly. "Think of it as a nice little needle in the haystack challenge, Sherlock," he adds and she purses her lips, letting him see the weight of her displeasure. She could do it, there wasn't any case she _couldn't_ solve after all, but she didn't have much to work on.

"Details?" She asks finally, propping her head up on her fist. "Who's associated with the project? What type of security is there? What kind of Vault is it? Where is the facility located on the base?" She could answer a few of those questions just from base knowledge of things she's read, but she asks them anyway.

"There's an entire team associated with the project, but the people of interest are: Izumi Hiroshi; He's a Colonel with the JASDF, responsible for watching over the vault and the information in it, meaning he has total access. There's also two others, draftsmen...and they also had access to the documents." Kento waves a hand before going on, "Kitamura Leiko and Hirota Akemi."

"Hirota?" Wato interjects, drawing the attention of both Sherlock and Kento. "His fiancee reported him missing, I saw an article about it this morning when I was reading through weather reports." Sherlock makes a note of that, threading her fingers together over her stomach.

"Colonel Izumi is the only one with full vault access, correct?" Sherlock asks, humming lowly when Kento nods. "So that means both Hirota and Kitamura only had access to the project documents while the Colonel was on base. Izumi looks like the likely suspect but Hirota hasn't done himself any favors." It certainly didn't answer all of her questions, but she had a lead and that was the most important.

"The vault has a multi-layered security system involving three different types of keys. A Key-card, a plain key, and a key code. Izumi was the only one who possessed all three but on the day of the theft he left the base, returned home and then left for a party at one Colonel Suzuki's home." Kento held up a hand to forestall the comment Sherlock held at the tip of her tongue, "His alibi is airtight, both his wife and the party goers were able to verify that he was, indeed, there. He also had all of his keys on him, he always does."

Sherlock frowns, staring at the surface of the table. "Kitamura and Hirota?"

"Kitamura is the senior draftswoman in the office and she has one key; access to the door that leads to the vault. She's not exactly a well favored woman in her work place but she gets her job done, married, one child. After checking to make sure the other locks where secure she locked up and went home were she stayed the entire night." He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Husband confirmed it, also mentioned she had her key. Hirota was next in line for Kitamura's position, he's been working there for about five years. According to his fiancee..." he trails off, glancing at Wato. "Did you read the article?" He asks and Wato shrugs.

"Not in it's entirety but I do know that his fiancee reported that they were on their way to see a movie when he suddenly ran off. The rain made it hard for her to see what it was he did and she was left waiting by their car for him to come back. When he didn't for several hours she....went home and reported him missing in the morning."

And that was two days ago, Sherlock thinks, hands shifting as she begins to drum her fingers against the arms of her chair. "It rings as rather odd behavior for someone who stole military secrets; going out with his fiancee...then running off. There's more to this than we're seeing." There was several possibilities and she couldn't settle on just one, not with what she had to go on. "Is there anyone else of note?" She asks, distracted by the sudden buzz of her phone.

"Arthur Valentine, James Oberstein and Sidney West," Kento says and Sherlock pauses, hand hovering over her phone. "They were stationed at Yokota until recently when they got discharged. I'm still looking into the specifics."

Another detail she files away as she picks her phone up, glancing once at the ID before answering. "Inspector?" There's the noise of an announcement filtering over the line and the subsequent murmur of the morning crowd.

_"I have something for you,"_ Reimon starts and she hears him walking away, the noise of the train platform fading away to the distant roar of wind. _"A body was found on the tracks early this morning on Tokyo metro's Marunochi Line. Victim was male, head was almost completely crushed after being run over by a train."_ She knows Reimon doesn't call her just for random bodies and she hums a note to let him know she's still listening, her eyes focused just over Wato's shoulder. _"He had documents for some project stuffed into his jacket, Nairan? It looks as if some of the pages are missing."_

It piques Sherlock's interest almost immediately, her eyes flicking to where Kento sits. "This project, was it called 'Nairan'?" She asks and watches as he straightens in his seat, it's all the answer she needs. "The Victim, did you ID him?" She knows already it's more than likely Hirota and her fingers return to their pattern of drumming across the arm of her chair.

_"Hirota Akemi, Sherlock do you know about this already?"_

"We'll be right there, I'll fill you in when we arrive." She hangs up before he can ask anything further, standing and looking between Kento and Wato. "They found Hirota, got run over by a Train sometime this morning. He had the documents on him, but some are apparently missing." She's already across the room as she speaks, grabbing her coat and pulling it on as she heads out the door, phone slipped already into an inside pocket. It only takes Wato and Kento an extra moment to join her as they head down the hallway back towards the entrance way.

"Are you going out in this?" Hatano asks as she passes the sitting room and she stops, Kento coming to stand in front of her and Wato halting at her side. The older woman frowns at them, looking between them, finding the answer in their coats and the umbrella Wato has clutched in her hands. "Take care out there," she says.

Wato bows slightly, thanking her for her concern as Sherlock wanders away with a wave only stopping again when they've reached the door. She stops to pull her shoes on as the other two do the same. A silence passes between them, broken up only by the hiss of rain battering against the wood and the howl of wind through the cracks. 

"Crime doesn't wait," Sherlock says finally and pulls the door open, leaving them all to make a dash for Kento's car.

The ride is mercifully uninteresting and Sherlock spends most of it staring out the window, lost in her own mind until she's summarily evicted from her seat and left to do her best impression of a wet cat as her and Wato make their way into the station. It doesn't matter that both of them possess raincoats and an umbrella between them, the rain so wind driven and soaking she wonders how they make it inside without losing the umbrella, and Wato has to work to peel her fingers from it where she'd held it in a death grip so she could finally fold it.

"At least we don't have to stand out in it," Wato mutters, sending a quiet glare over her shoulder in the direction of the entrance as they pick their way down the steps. It's a sentiment Sherlock shares and she thinks at least Kento got them as close to the building as he could before tossing them out.

Then she wonders if he'll join them, since this is his case as much as it's hers now. She decides when she catches sight of Reimon through the thinning crowds that it doesn't really matter if Kento shows back up or returns to his office, he likely has other things above her nonexistent security level to deal with. 

"Sherlock," Reimon greets and she nods, her eyes shifting from him to the people still milling around the station; a mix of cops and civilians in various states of exasperation, then falling on the leak in the ceiling, water sluggishly streaming from it to pool on the floor. "Someone's supposedly coming to fix it," Reimon adds and her attention cuts back to him almost immediately, a hum sounding in her throat. 

"Supposedly," she parrots, uninterested and Reimon laughs, diverting their attention to a worker waiting with a maintenance trolley. She fills him in on the way to the scene -- once Wato intervenes to stay her hands from the controls, muttering 'don't' and fixing her with a disapproving look Sherlock remembers getting from her mother more than once -- and he listens, shifting from mildly amused to concerned as she talks.

It's a cliff notes version of the discussion they had with Kento prior, but it's enough that Reimon gets the idea without Sherlock having to go into excruciating detail.

"You called her?" Shibata complains the moment they're off the trolly and she's crossing the police barrier without a second thought, tossing a casual smile his way as she passes on her way toward where the body still lays. Distantly, she hears Reimon reply and then she tunes them all out, bending down to get a better look in what little light the spotlight they have set up offers.

"Flashlight?" She asks no one in particular, glancing when the officer nearest to her proffers one. She takes it and flicks it on, turning the beam toward the body and raising an eyebrow. It's about as much of a mess as she guessed it would be, skull fragments and brain matter scattered halfway down the track. It paints a particularly grisly picture, one that she files away as she brings the beam back to the body. The only thing that remains of the head is the jaw, tongue lolling freely from where it normally would have sat.

"Poor Hirota-san," Wato murmurs as she joins her, standing at her side and looking down at the scene. She doesn't feel the same way Wato feels, her mind set on finding out exactly what happened and catching the one responsible. She was already layering theory upon guess, sweeping the beam along the rails on either side of them until they disappeared into murky darkness, the flashlight's beam unable to penetrate it. It was almost claustrophobic, the space between rails leaving them with hardly any room and zero mercy for a mistake.

Fortunately there was no trains coming or going and she guesses the line has been shut down and the passengers forced to find another method of transportation until they finished with their investigation. It just meant she had to put the puzzle together as quickly as she could. "He was dumped here," she says, leaning back down by the body to take another look at it, tucking a finger underneath the chin to lift it, frowning at the resistance. "Rigor mortis has set in," she mutters, instead forced to lean on her elbow to see what she wants. "There's bruising on the back and side of his neck. Not post mortem, looks like he might have been hit with something." She's not entirely sure, but the position the body is in makes it hard for her to judge properly, still she has an idea forming in the back of her mind that she files away for now.

"Anything else?," Reimon asks from somewhere to her side, her eyes flicking from the bruise to where his general location is. If they can't figure it out now, they will when they move the body to leave, and Sherlock has been counting the seconds to the moment they will have been here too long. They've waited as it is, for her and Wato to arrive, for them to look around and see if they notice something the other officers haven't.

_She sees him check his watch and amends her thought, too long._

Her lip quirks with a flicker of amusement and she sits back, looking up to Wato still beside her. "What do you think?" She asks and Wato blinks once, then kneels down herself. Sherlock hands the flashlight over -- taking the umbrella in return -- when the other woman silently asks for it with an outstretched palm and moves out of the way to let her see, effectively switching their positions.

"It's hard to tell," Wato says after a few seconds of looking, propped awkwardly on her knees and an elbow. Her free hand skirts skin, fingers expertly shifting cloth out of the way until she can get a better look. "The bruising is darker at the jugular and it looks like there might be a small cut? He was either hit with something or stabbed."

"Needle?" Sherlock offers, "If he was tranquilized that would explain why he was still unconscious when the train came back around again. So, we can assume Hirota was injected with the tranquilizer and was dragged down here and left on the rail. Meaning that there's probably a maintenance door somewhere that's been messed with."

"So," Reimon hazards, and she can hear him coming towards her in the crunch of the gravel, her focus remaining fixated on the ground a little beyond her feet. "Murder, not a freak accident."

"Murder," Sherlock agrees. "A transaction gone wrong, or someone Hirota knew was extremely unhappy at his seeming act of treason. Speaking of, where are the papers? I didn't see them in his pocket." She looks up at him then, tilting her head. The smile that sneaks onto Reimon's face is one she mirrors before he turns away and waves one of the officers over.

"Right here," he says once the officer approaches and he picks up the bag with them in it, folded awkwardly and crinkled around the edges where they were stuffed into a slightly too small pocket. She takes them from him, but doesn't try to make any sense of them when Wato still has the flashlight.

"Did we figure out how many were missing?" She asks, holding the bag up into the light from the spotlight. A moment later Wato steps into her side, letting Sherlock know she's there without touching her. When she looks to him for an answer he only shrugs and she realizes she shouldn't expect them to know. She almost doubts any of them could even tell what half of it was beyond -- and as she lowers her arm, Wato lifts the flashlight to be level with her shoulder, giving them a better look at the papers -- it being blueprints for some kind of...plane?

It slots a few more pieces of the still scattered puzzle in her mind together and she hands the umbrella back to Wato so she can open the bag, counting the papers inside before looking at each one. She sees, exactly, where the missing pages should be, noting a weapons system and mention of a radar system.

_The notes on the radar system are missing._

"Three," she mutters, answering her own question. It brings another to her mind, what was so special about the radar system? The entire thing seemed fairly run of the mill so whatever it was had to be what made the weapon so dangerous. The papers offer no real answers so she seals the bag and hands it back to Reimon along with the flashlight she takes back from Wato. It's not theirs and her use for it is done.

"Shibata," Reimon says, turning away from her but lingering at her side, letting her know without words that there's more he wants to discuss. "Take a few officers, canvas the maintenance tunnels nearest to the scene, talk to the workers, find out whatever you can about what happened here."

"What are you going to do?" Shibata asks, and she barely catches the glance from the halo lit shadow of him, squinting slightly into the spotlight that for how bright it is really isn't helpful.

"Inform the fiancee of what happened."

======

It's not one of Sherlock's favorite parts of investigating, having to inform the family of a loved one's death, It's...messy and unpleasant. She was never able to muster up the ability to offer sympathy so she offers silence instead, standing aside and letting Reimon or Wato deal with it. They're better at it, better at offering quite platitudes and comfort Sherlock is otherwise unable to give. She doesn't have the patience for it, even if it picks at her and digs under her skin.

Sherlock cares just not quite in the way other people might expect.

So when Minami meets them at the door with a grim expression of acceptance Sherlock admits she's mildly surprised. Hirota's fiancee gives herself only a few seconds to crumble after they'd been ushered into a sitting room and Reimon had given confirmation to the question Minami hadn't needed to ask, and Sherlock watches her. She can see the way the younger woman retreats into herself, how her jaw sets and her bottom lip trembles. But she internalizes it all, sucks in a shuddering breath and then looks up at them with the same grim acceptance.

Sherlock thinks she's a proud woman, a woman who'll break down after they leave instead of while they're here. She thinks that Minami has no desire for a group of strangers to see her at her lowest, and it's a trait Sherlock can appreciate. Some might see it as a sign of guilt, but Sherlock knows that everyone deals with grief in their own way, just as everyone displays guilt in their own way. 

"Did your fiance ever talk about his work?" Her question is almost jarring when the only noise before had been the hiss of rain against the windows and each of their collective breathing. The sound of her voice brings two startled glances her way, Wato's shoulders stiff with her surprise. She doesn't spare either of them a glance, focused on the tight line of Minami's jaw until the other woman turns to look at her. She holds her gaze and Sherlock can see the gears churning in her mind, watches the war between nostalgia and grief in her eyes.

Minami internalizes it, but she can't hide it completely. No one ever can.

"He did, but not a lot. Just a few comments here and there about what kind of projects he was working on, or about people he worked with. He didn't really like to bring his job home with him," Minami says, lifting a trembling hand to scrub it across her face.

"Did he not enjoy his work?"

Minami shakes her head, fingers pressed to her lips in an attempt to keep her emotions in check. She looks almost relieved when Sherlock makes no move to offer comfort, simply shifting her position in her chair and waiting. "He was passionate about his job, Detective. He enjoyed being able to serve the country. He just wanted to keep work and our relationship separate. It was always how he was, focused on the now."

Sherlock files it away, deciding it doesn't quite match up. As guilty as he looked in the subway the picture being painted to her now somehow didn't fit. "He never had any trouble, then? Not with money or his superiors?" The words come out careful, keeping her tone as neutral as possible but Minami still stiffens, the look in her eyes hardening. 

"No," she says, and her tone holds a bit of an edge now, warning. "Sure he had the occasional disagreement with people he worked with but never anything severe. Is there something you're not telling me?"

For once she makes the choice to swallow her words, glancing to Reimon to seek out the way to handle the rest of the line of questioning. At this point the case is too important, too high security, for her to casually spill details like she might for a less serious situation. She finds him already looking her way and he offers the slightest of nods, a signal that he's deferring to her discretion.

Probably not the best idea.

When her attention returns to Minami the other woman is still watching her. There's no hostility in her gaze but Sherlock can see the beginnings of suspicion that she has no desire to exacerbate. "First, I have one last question," she says, waiting until the woman across from her nods slowly. "Was there any change in his behavior in the days before he went missing?" She catches the flicker of concern before Minami's eyes fall away from her and fix on her hands bunched in her lap. Sherlock knows the answer already just from the reaction but she waits until the silence stretches out too long and impatience starts to eat at her. "Well?" She prompts, tilting her head.

"Yes," Minami finally says, looking up. "About a week before he vanished he was more distant. He seemed worried about something and when I asked he just told me it was nothing I needed to worry about. I could see it eating away at him though, he was trying to figure out how to handle whatever it was. It was like that up until the night he went missing, I convinced him we should do something to try and get him to relax..." She trails off then, eyes returning to her hands.

The pieces rearrange. "Your fiance was found with plans for a project he was working on," she says it with an absolute lack of emotion in her tone, voice low and quiet. "Three of the pages were missing." Minami stiffens again, her shoulders pulling up around her ears, fingers wringing together until they whiten.

"He wouldn't, not my Akemi. He wouldn't."

It's all Sherlock needs to hear and she reevaluates her opinions while Wato and Reimon give their condolences and goodbyes. She rises when the others do, inclining her head slightly and trailing behind Wato making it halfway to do the door before Minami speaks up again, stopping them.

"I think he mentioned that project once, said that if the world found out about it, it could cause a lot of trouble for our government...and that any terrorist organization would pay billions to get their hands on it." There's a pleading look in her eyes once she finishes, wringing her hands as she swallows. "I know him though, I don't care what it looks like to you, I know that he wasn't the one who took them."

Sherlock leaves with mixed feelings, joining Wato and Reimon outside. The rain has lessened to a drizzle but she knows it's only a minor respite, thunder rolling off in the distance in confirmation. "Where to now?" Reimon asks when she gets in the car finally.

"Colonel Izumi's."  
  


======

Izumi's wife -- Harue -- meets them at the door with a nervous apprehension, like she's preparing to hear news she's been expecting for a while now. It makes Sherlock pay a little more attention, curious as to what it is that the older woman seems to be waiting for. She guesses what it might be, news of an accident on base, news of a death.

"Is the Colonel in?" 

The mix of relief and devastation that crosses over the older woman's features is a surprise of it's own. She wasn't expecting Reimon's question, so Sherlock crosses that off the list of potentials. Not awaiting news of an accident, then. She thinks of the family's two kids, tilting her head slightly. 

"My husband passed away very early this morning," Harue says, quietly, wringing her hands. "Was there something important you needed? I may be able to point you in the right direction."

For a moment none of them say anything, the news slowly sinking in with each second that passes. Sherlock hears nothing but distant traffic and the hiss of wind through the trees, her own mind a whirling mess of thoughts she cleanly puts into a quiet order. "What happened?" She asks, abruptly, managing to keep her tone as sympathetic as she can.

"Only if you're comfortable talking about it," Wato adds from beside her, and Sherlock grunts when the younger woman's elbow digs slightly into her side. _Don't be so insensitive._ Sherlock purses her lips and shoots Wato a restrained glare out of the corner of her eye, looking away a moment later and plastering on her best apologetic smile.

Wato digs her again and she stops, her expression smoothing back out to it's usual neutral mask.

"Oh. No, It's fine," Harue starts, wringing her hands a second time, then pushing one through her hair. "He had a heart condition that had begun to get worse in recent years, the...stress of work and some personal matters just compounded it. He had a massive heart attack and passed away shortly after we got him to the hospital."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that," Reimon says and Wato adds her agreement, leaving Sherlock as silent as she had been since the condolences began with the last visit. Two deaths surrounding this case already; the victim and the head of the project. Briefly, Sherlock wonders if they were linked in some way, if the Colonel was really as innocent as everyone believed.

She shelves it, deciding to wait for further proof.

"If you don't mind, may we come in? I have some follow up questions I'd like to ask about the people your husband worked with." There's a moment that it looks like Harue might refuse them, her stare pinned on Reimon but distant at the same time, pulled back into the pit of grief she had barely begun to climb out of. Then she nods, waving them inside and stepping out of the way for them to pass. Reimon takes the lead and Sherlock the rear, meeting Harue's eyes as she goes.

There's something off, she can see it but can't put a finger on it.

_Not yet._

It's a nice house, she thinks after they'd pulled their shoes off and made their way into the living room. Sherlock can see the military influence in the medals and strict sense of organization but she sees Harue's as well in the paintings and furnature. She circles the room as the other's sit down, looking at pictures and studying the rewards and school projects; well written essays, art projects that range from elementary level to highschool. It gives her an estimate of each of the Izumi children's ages, the most recent family picture confirming it.

_A year ago, they all looked so happy._

She looks back over them all again, leaning down to note the years on each of the pictures. Same month, same day, every single year. Until this one. It sticks with her, remembering Harue's remark about personal problems. It's a footnote she adds to the gathered knowledge, tacking on that the family was probably too busy to take the family photo this year. She had no idea of the time line of Nairan, after all. Just that it was in production.

Reimon is asking about Hirota as she crosses behind where he and Wato have settled and she notes that Harue has nothing but good things to say about him, that he and the Colonel worked very well together, that they shared their love of the work and their country.

"What was it about the job that was stressing him out?" Sherlock asks, stopping to study the table set beside the couch. There's something on it, smudged into the paint enough it's scratched it. She drags a finger through it, rolling the substance between it and her thumb. It's not dust.

"The project he'd begun work on, there were some very vocal people who were against the idea and their constant presence in the offices put a strain on him."

She looks up in time to watch Harue wring her hands a third time, twisting her fingers up until Sherlock thinks it's probably borderline painful. "Do you know who these people are?"

Harue shakes her head, and Sherlock uses her distraction to wipe her fingers off on the back of the couch. "I just know they were Americans."

The answer doesn't surprise her, given everything she knows about Yokota, so she changes gears. "Did your husband ever work from home?" She needs to know if there's anything Izumi was hiding from his family, needed to know if guilt was a factor in his stress, or if there was something else Harue wasn't able to tell her.

"He did, his office is just down the hall there," Harue says, pointing. "He didn't normally let anyone back there, but..you can go take a look if you want." The sudden permission comes as another surprise, but it's not one Sherlock takes for granted, inclining her head in thanks before making her way out of the room and down the indicated hall. She hears the beginning rise of conversation again, the low murmur of Wato's voice following her as she slips through the door to the office.

The office, she notes, is all military. Orderly and sparsely decorated, a desk with a chair and a couch across from it for the purpose of the occasional visitor. Wall to wall bookcases in the back of the room, filled with historical titles and other military paraphernalia Sherlock doesn't really care about. The desk is just as neat -- if not more so, she thinks as she sits down in the chair -- as the rest of the room, only a few unfinished reports littering the surface. The drawers yield nothing of interest, files on common knowledge projects and other information. Tax information and other household related things, bills, miscellaneous pens and office supplies.

She returns her attention to the desk top, catching sight of the bottle tucked neatly between a small pile of journals and another family photo; this one just of his children and wife. 

"What are you doing in here? Strangers aren't supposed to be in here!"

The small voice immediately makes Sherlock freeze, her eyes fixated on the pill bottle as though it's the most fascinating thing in the room -- it isn't, and Sherlock cycles through the ingredients and the side effects twice in an attempt to calm her elevated heart rate. 

"Shouldn't you be in school doing some activity or something?" She asks instead of answering, slowly turning to look at the child who had regrettably decided to join her. The girl looks at her accusingly, eyes narrowed in suspicion and Sherlock raises an eyebrow in return. 

"My mommy let me take the day off," the girl says, crossing her arms over her chest and pinning Sherlock with an even more dangerous stare. As usual she's 100% not equipped -- or willing -- to deal with the situation laid out in front of her, making her wish she hadn't left Wato out in the living room. "Now, why are you in here, does mommy know you're in here?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes Sherlock leans her elbow on the desk, propping her head up on her palm. The girl narrows her eyes further and Sherlock decides to humor her before it becomes a full on screaming for her mother fit that gets them all kicked out of the house. "Yup, she gave me permission to be in here." She can't help the mildly smug smile she tacks at the end of her sentence, then looks away in an attempt to dismiss her current company.

The last thing she wants is the kid to think Sherlock wants her to stick around.

"Oh. Daddy didn't usually like anyone in his office if they weren't from his work or police. Are you police?"

Sherlock drags her eyes back to the little girl, still hovering in the doorway, still watching her, and it takes another long exercise in patience she's running out of to not say something she really shouldn't. _Be nice_ , she can almost hear Wato telling her, and she bites her tongue, then sighs out her nose. "Something like that." To her rising annoyance the child brazenly meanders her way into the room proper, crawling up onto the couch where she makes herself comfortable.

Silently, she accepts she's probably not going to get any more work done, and resigns herself to suffering through the remainder of the conversation until the child loses interest.

"What's your name?" The girl asks, kicking her feet.

"Sherlock," she mutters in return, crossing her arms over the desk and resting her chin against one forearm. The girl looks up, mouthing the name silently a few times -- in what Sherlock assumes is an attempt to remember it -- before nodding and looking back at her.

"I'm Jade."

I don't really care, she thinks, chewing at the inside of her lip. It's the truth, she doesn't. Maybe she should, but she can't find it in her to really be bothered to remember the name after she leaves the Izumi's home. "Okay," she says, trying for polite disinterest instead of outright dismissal.

"Did mommy tell you about daddy?" Jade's tone is somber now, and it brings Sherlock's gaze up from where she'd focused back on the pill bottle.

"Yes."

Jade nods, looking down at her feet as she continues to swing them. "He really loved his work, got all these medals and awards. But sometimes he looked really sad and tired when he came home. Everyone has bad days, though, but I heard him talking about these mean men who would yell at him a lot."  
The Americans no doubt.

"Then my brother got in trouble with the police and daddy was sad and mad all the time."

_The Police?_ It piques Sherlock's interest, making her straighten and sit back in the chair. "What did your brother do?"

"I heard daddy talking about drugs? And those 'scum in the bad districts.'" Jade frowns, looking at her for an explanation that Sherlock doesn't think she should offer. She doesn't think a ten year old really needs to know about the criminal underbelly of Tokyo, not when she had dozens of other things to worry about.

"Drugs, huh?" She muses aloud, staring at the surface of the desk. The wood off to the side is clean, unblemished. _The substance on the end table!_ "Have you ever seen your brother with any mean looking people?" 

Jade nods, leaning forward on the couch. "One time when my brother was supposed to come pick me up from school I saw him talking to this mean looking guy with tattoos."

_Yakuza?_ Sherlock fights down a grimace, a muscle in her jaw ticking as she puts together an entirely different case. It's not her problem, figuring it's something the police can deal with when the time comes to it, but she knows how the Yakuza work, especially when they think they're being cheated.

"Jade, are you bothering the Detective?!" They both start, turning to look out the door and down the hall to where Harue is standing with Wato lingering at her side. Sherlock almost feels embarrassed being caught like this, casually conversing with a child that she normally would go out of her way to avoid.

"No!" Jade protests, and Sherlock sees her look back at her out of the corner of her eye. "I wasn't bothering you, was I?"

Soon everyone's attention is on her and she's under prepared to be as put on the spot as she is so she blanks out, her jaw working as her eyes flick from Harue to Wato. The other woman is smiling so slightly that it really does make Sherlock's face heat. "No," she grudgingly says, averting her eyes to stare at the door frame. 

"See mommy! I wasn't bothering her!" Jade leaps off the couch, running to the door and out of the office to stop in front of her mother. "Sherlock and I where just talking!"

Slowly Sherlock follows, running her fingers through her hair and adjusting her coat. 

"About what, sweetie?" Harue asks, her eyes raising from Jade to Sherlock as she joined them.

"Just stuff!" Jade replies, looking up at Sherlock and grinning a little. _It's our little secret._

Sherlock grunts, reaching out to pat the girl's head before slipping between Wato and the wall, coming to stand back out in the living room proper. "Are we ready to go? I'm starving." She'd found out about all she was going to here, the new information neatly jotted down off to the side of the rest of it.

Reimon laughs and nods, looking at his watch. "Yea, I'll give you guys a ride home."

She turns as Wato comes to stand at her side, "Thank you for your time, Izumi-san," Wato says, bowing and Sherlock once again inclines her head, offering the still grinning Jade the tiniest of smiles. 

"So do you _still_ not like children?" Wato asks as they're leaving and Sherlock does roll her eyes this time, shoving Wato lightly as they make their way towards the car.

"I still don't." Jade had just earned herself a small exception.

======

Kento calls in the middle of the ride home, and Sherlock answers on the second buzz, staring out the windshield as the rain that had started soon after they left gathers and is swept aside by the wipers. "Yea?" She asks, her gaze wandering to watch the clouds continue to roll in, fog consuming the tops of the skyscrapers.

It's going to get worse, she thinks, suddenly aware the oncoming typhoon is gearing up to do it's best to drown them all. This morning's storm and those prior had just been a precursor to the real threat baring down on them now. Sherlock has little doubt that by nightfall the wind and rain will be coming in earnest, blinding the city and making it hard for anyone to get anything done.

Not that it ever slowed anyone here down much.

_"I have some more information to share with you, are you at home?"_

She can hear the dull murmur of conversation on the other end of the line as she leans over in her seat to look at the dash clock, recalling the time it was when they left to the time it was now, slowly calculating how much time would be required before they got back home. About another half hour, give or take weather influenced traffic.

"No," she replies finally, leaning back and settling again in her seat. "We're on our way back from the Izumi residence," she adds after a moment, hearing him sigh.

_"Alright, I'll meet you back at your place then. Dinner?"_

"Please." She turns, glancing at Wato in the backseat then to Reimon beside her. "Kento has more information for us, you interested in hanging around?" She could easily fill him in later if not, knowing he probably wanted to find out what Shibata found and then get home to his wife, but to her surprise he nods.

"I'll call Shibata when we arrive, see what he found and we can all pool in our information from there," he replies, risking a quick glance at her before affixing his attention to the road again.

" _So dinner for four, then,"_ Kento comments, amusement coloring his tone. _"Anything in particular?"_

"Whatever is fine." 

_"Sure that narrows it down,"_ he says, laughing. _"Fine, I'll see you in a while then."_

'A while', as it turned out, happened to be the half hour Sherlock guessed with another twenty minutes tacked on thanks to a small tangle of traffic they encountered after getting off the highway. It had begun to rain harder and almost everyone who had gotten out of work wanted to be in the same place as everyone else.

Home.

It's a small relief when they finally make it and Reimon makes good on his remark to call Shibata, waving them out of the car with a promise he'd be in shortly. Sherlock and Wato make the short trip from the car to the house at a jog, thankful the rain, while steady, hadn't become the full downpour the sky was still threatening.

"We have about a day," Sherlock mutters as they shed raincoats and wet shoes, "until it gets too bad to be outside without a very good reason." 

"Then we have a lot of work cut out for us tomorrow," Wato replies, and Sherlock turns to look at her, smiling in response to the one Wato gives her.  
It won't be the first time Sherlock cut a case down to the wire.

Kento is waiting for them when Sherlock finally pushes the door open, having taken residence up on the couch while the promised food sits waiting on the table. "Did we waste your twenty minutes?" She asks as she makes her way to her chair and sits, turning around in it to look at him.

"No," he replies, then stands, making his way to the chair he'd taken this morning. "This case is important enough it's all I have on my plate right now, so you have my undivided attention."

Wato returns from the kitchen with a fourth chair and the look she gives Sherlock -- a mix of pleading and mild annoyance -- convinces her to stand and fetch the plates Wato had left out on the counter, bringing them back and setting them beside the bag. "Lucky me," she says as she sits again, resting her chin atop her palm.

Beside her Wato shuffles chairs around then sits herself, leaning over to set the plates up. They don't talk while she does it, the clink of ceramic and rustling of paper as Wato pulls the food out and sets it down on the table the only sounds.

Sherlock takes the time to organize her thoughts, staring at a spot over Kento's shoulder as she does. She recounts the facts and compares it against Minami's certainty against them; considers the harassment from the other soldiers and the seemingly inconsequential behavior of Jade's brother. It all sits in the back of her mind and churns, scenarios playing and coming to stuttering stops when the film bleeds away and burns.

_Almost._

Reimon comes in while Sherlock rewinds and replays another idea, but she pauses it in favor of returning to the present, settling back in her chair when he sits in the remaining one.

"They didn't find anything searching the tunnels, but they did find out from one of the workers that a uniform and maintenance keys had gone missing. The uniform belonged to a part timer who had recently quit, one Sidney West. When Shibata went to go speak with him he wasn't at home. He's going to try again tomorrow."

The name brings Sherlock back to the conversation this morning, one of the three men discharged from the military. It leads in to the harassment and Hirota's grim warning to Minami. Where they the three Americans harassing Izumi and the others? It made sense, in fact, it made perfect sense but she sits on her deduction for the moment, noticing that Kento made the connection as well.

"Sidney West was one of the three I mentioned. I looked more into why they were discharged, turns out they were harassing Colonel Izumi and his draftsmen along with anyone else who came or went from the office. They went so far as to make threats and assaulted the one guy who dared to argue with them. They're all staying together in Shibuya and all had part time jobs in the surrounding areas while they weren't working on base. I'm assuming with the dishonorable discharge they're planning to head back home."

They break to eat after Kento finishes talking, falling into unrelated conversation while Sherlock puts together the new pieces. One of the three men must have drugged Hirota and left him on the tracks, Sidney being the most likely suspect. For the moment she fills his name in and mulls it all over again and again with the two missing pieces that still hang just out of her reach. 

_Who stole the papers from the vault if not Hirota? And was it Sidney who had the three missing pages?_

She was inclined to think that he did, but she had to be sure. All three of them were guilty of something, so all three of them could easily be at fault. With a huff she shakes it off and finishes her food, putting her chopsticks down and turning her attention to the drink that materialized somewhere between her beginning to eat and the time she lost herself in thought. She sips it before sitting back in her chair and considering the three around her.

"Hirota's fiancee mentioned that the project would be something terrorists would pay a lot of money to get a hold of. It's looking like one of those three, or all three have the missing pages. It's just a matter of figuring out who broke into the vault." And why, she tacks on, mentally, letting the implication hang.

"So you think there's another middle man?" Reimon asks and she frowns, knowing what it really looks like.

"Minami was so convinced it wasn't Hirota, so while the facts still make him the most likely suspect of the theft....I don't want to lean on that and miss the real culprit. Besides, she said he wasn't struggling with money and the thief likely was." She shrugs, then pauses, staring fixedly at the arm of Wato's chair.

_Struggling with money._

_A Debt._

"What were you and Jade talking about?" Wato suddenly asks, jerking her from the thought she was pursuing. When she looks up the younger woman is smiling at her and Kento looks incredulous like he knows who Jade is.

He probably does.

"You were talking to a _kid_?" Kento says, and he definitely does, " _You?_ Who can hardly _stand them_?"

She fixes him with a glare until his amusement fades a little at the edges then looks away, watching it creep back onto his face the moment he thinks her attention isn't on him anymore. "Mostly about her father and her brother." Her eyes flick to Reimon and she narrows them in thought. "Her brother got in to trouble with the police recently for drugs. You know anything about that?"

"He was both using and selling, according to the officers that brought him in," Reimon replies and Sherlock nods.

Using and selling, for the Yakuza. If he wasn't selling enough that would mean he'd be slowly digging himself deeper into debt. "He might be our thief." The boy would have had access to the keys and if he had half a brain and was desperate enough, could have somehow gotten a hold of them. It doesn't sit right and she mulls it over more and more until the puzzle becomes mismatched and fit together with different color pieces.

She moves on.

"I still want to go speak to Kitamura and check out the office tomorrow," she says finally, looking at Kento. "Can you get me on base?"

"I'll make some calls," he replies, crossing his arms. "I'll come pick you up in the morning and we can head over there, come to think of it I can take care of some business I had to put on the back-burner thanks to this case."

Slowly, Reimon rises from his seat. "Shibata and I will look into the son while you're checking out the office. I'll let you know what we find."

"Alright," Sherlock replies and they say their goodnights.

======

It's almost too quiet when they reach the vault office, the general noise from the rest of the base a distant rumble of chaos and voices muted by the heavy humidity clinging to the air. She had anticipated rain, but instead the clouds churn silently overhead, dark and looming, giving them a reprieve Sherlock was counting on not lasting. 

The calm before the storm, as it was, having mere hours until full landfall.

No wasting time, she told herself, casting a glance over her shoulder as she heard Kento's car pull away. He'd left them with the usual twenty minute time limit, an ID and a call ahead to let Kitamura know they were coming. Wato sticks close to her side as they make their way into the office, pausing once to present said ID to a guard and inform him they were expected.

Two minutes later a woman she could only assume was Kitamura came to fetch them, a strained smile plastered on her features. 

"Sorry about that," Kitamura says, ushering them both into the office proper, "We've upped security a bit since the theft. Not that it does us any good now." Sherlock quirks an eyebrow at the tacked on bitter remark and silently finds herself agreeing with it. Increased security after the most important documents have been stolen really doesn't help anyone. 

"It took a theft for them to finally listen?" Wato comments, frowning and casting a glance around the office, her attention falling on Sherlock when she allows herself a derisive snort.

"That's always how it is, they think the vault is impenetrable so they don't do anything about it until oops! Turns out it's not." She settles for her own examination of the office, noting the different rooms were she assumed Hirota and Izumi used to have claim on and the hallway off-shoot that must lead to the vault in question. The door is shut and from the looks of it, locked.

"Is that always locked?" She asks, gaze flicking from the door to Kitamura. The other woman looks between her and the door, her lips pursed.

"When we're here that door wasn't usually locked, no. The door at the end of that hall that leads to the Vault itself always is." Kitamura's gesture is flippant, a tossed hand and obvious disapproval. "I lock that door and the door leading out of the office every day when I leave. Or I used to, now I'm just going to be locking the office door."

"Did everyone who worked here have a key to the main office?" Wato asks as Sherlock slowly starts to wander the office more, tapping a finger against the locked door as she passes it, heading in the direction of Hirota's old office.

"Yes, everyone did have a key to the main office." Kitamura's reply is distracted and Sherlock looks over her shoulder in time to see the older woman watching her.

She waves, grinning.

"..Don't mind her," Wato mutters, sighing. "She's like this."

Kitamura doesn't seem convinced, but she doesn't comment either. "I assume you've both heard about what happened with the Colonel?" Her tone is more sombre now and Sherlock hums low in her throat.

"We spoke to his family yesterday," she replies, turning to lean against the wall by Hirota's office. "You always locked up when you left, right?"

"Of course I did!" Kitamura rounds on her then, thinly controlled annoyance flaring. She's stressed and Sherlock knows she's not doing much to help it, only exacerbating it with her line of questioning, no matter how important it is.

"Even the day of the robbery?" She asks, tilting her chin up as she stares across the room at the older woman. Kitamura struggles with her outrage and Sherlock watches the way her face flushes as she fights it down.

"Yes, I did. I locked up and went home, same as always. My husband can vouch for me and before you ask yes, I did have my keys." Her tone vacillates between anger and defeat, hand lifting to rub down her face. "Please, Sherlock, I didn't have anything to do with this. I have enough on my plate to deal with as it is. I'm hardly about to add treason to it."

She doesn't ask what, since it's not the point of the investigation, instead she straightens from her lean and turns on her heel, disappearing into Hirota's office despite the discouraging noise she hears from both women behind her. "So do you think it's Hirota?" She asks once she's made it to his desk, casting a slow look around the room.

There isn't much of note; a shelf with binders she assumes contain other projects, a few pictures hanging on the walls. Her attention drops to the desk as she hears Kitamura and Wato join her, scanning the mess of half drawn out blue prints and the sketch board that sits beside the desk itself.

"I don't know what to think. Everything points to him being guilty but....I worked with him for five years, Sherlock. I like to believe I knew him well enough."  
She turns to look at KItamura then, considering.

"You don't think he did it." Wato ventures, filling in the silence when Sherlock doesn't. "His fiancee doesn't either." Kitamura nods, running her fingers through her hair.

"I keep hoping that maybe we're wrong, but at the same time I have to accept that something might have changed that drove him to do what he did."  
Wato's eyes flick from Kitamura to Sherlock, giving her a pleading look. She shrugs. "We have other things we're looking in to," she says finally. It's not what Wato exactly had in mind, given the flat look of exasperation she gets in return for it, but Kitamura's mood shifts as she heaves a relieved sigh.

"So there's a chance."

"I'd like to see the vault room." She steps away from Hirota's desk and crosses the room, stopping just short of where Wato and Kitamura still stand in the doorway. The topic shift comes as a surprise and she waits a moment as the older woman gathers herself and nods, gesturing for them to follow.

Kitamura unlocks the door with an ease born of practice, getting it half open before Sherlock is slipping by her to the tune of Wato's muttered apology as the younger woman trails behind her. The hallway leading to the vault is empty and silent and too brightly lit, making her squint slightly under the harsh florescents while waiting for Kitamura to join them by the second door.

"I shouldn't even be letting you in here," the older woman mutters as she moves between Sherlock and Wato to unlock the second door. "But this is an extenuating circumstance."

"No one's going to find out, anyway," Sherlock offers, smiling again when the clerk's attention swivels to her. It's the other woman's turn to consider her, staring her down with a look that's been honed over the years, meant to weather down troublesome officers and youngsters.

In the face of it's current opponent, however, it does little beyond make Sherlock raise an eyebrow.

Kitamura shoulders the door open after another moment, stepping inside the room with Sherlock close on her heels. She takes a calculated look around, studying the floor tiles and the walls, the window she briefly wondered why was even there, down to the vault door itself. 

"There was no sign of forced entry," Kitamura supplies, and Sherlock's eyes flick to her in time to watch her cross her arms, shoulders curling in as she hunches around herself. 

"How did you come to find out the plans were missing, anyway?" Sherlock asks, looking back at the vault door to note each of the spots for the various keys. It's complicated and she wonders, not for the first time, why anyone would really go through so much trouble.

The information, the money. It's the same reasoning and the pieces still stayed stubbornly half fitted and half scattered.

"The hallway doors were both open, which I knew weren't when I left the night before. So I asked the Colonel when he arrived..." Kitamura trails off, leaving Sherlock to fill in the blanks.

"The plans were gone," Wato voices her thoughts, and Sherlock turns to give the woman a small, approving smile. "Sherlock," Wato says suddenly, her gaze honing in on the window she'd filed away as pointless. "What's that?"

Frowning, she redirects her attention, catching on exactly what her partner had noticed. "A security shutter," she says, glancing at Kitamura for confirmation. "It looks like it's damaged."

"It's down at night and again, before you ask, I know it's pointless." Kitamura leans back, hitting a button behind her to lower the shutter.

It is, as she'd noted, damaged, the thin metal blades bent in a few places as if someone had looked in to see what was going on. Sherlock crosses to the window then, peering out through the gaps to the concrete beyond. "Someone saw."

_Then it clicks, Minami's comment about Hirota running off suddenly and never coming back, the bent shutter. She puts it together, imagining the night he vanished, running into the wind driven rain and losing his fiancee in the fog to chase a figure still obscured by shadow, both reaching the base --_

_He stops outside the window to peer in through the shutters, sees someone stealing from the vault._

"I see," she mutters, blinking back to the present and turning to look at the two behind her. Wato's watching her with rapt attention, aware she's made some kind of connection so her attention falls on Kitamura, who looks incredibly lost. "It wasn't Hirota, he was chasing the real thief. It was a conclusion we had already half come to given some information that came to light after we spoke to the Colonel's family, but this just helps confirm it." She moves away from the window, stopping in front of Wato.

"Let's go, I need to see what the Inspector has found, if anything." She glances, shooting Kitamura a half grin before she's out the door and halfway down the hallway, Wato saying a hurried goodbye before she hears her running after her. She's past the guard when Wato catches up to her, grabbing her arm to force her to slow down.

For her, she does, if only slightly. 

"You really think it was the son?" She asks after taking a moment to catch her breath, when they both stop by the front door. Sherlock purses her lips, staring outside and noting it's started to finally pour in the few moments they were walking.

"We're going to get wet," she says instead of answering, pulling out her phone to text Kento. Then Reimon. Wato's still staring at her when she finishes, and she meets her eyes. "Maybe."

Reimon calls first, jarring both of them from their contemplation. "Inspector?"

"Sherlock," he says, "We looked into Izumi's son, he's been in rehab for nearly a month now. So Shibata and I went back to speak to Harue and found out that Izumi had given his son an ultimatum, either he get clean or he get out. He chose getting clean." 

She scrapes out the idea of the son, turning to give Wato a look that clearly sets the younger woman on edge. "Then who?" She asks, biting her lip. "What about the autopsy results?"

"The bruising on his neck was caused by blunt force trauma, but the cut Wato noticed did turn out to be an injection site. They found traces of Tranquilizer in his blood. Just like you thought."

Sherlock nods, humming to let him know she heard. "Wato and I are going to head over to West's place, see if he's showed up or not. Text me the address?" She doesn't mention that she intends to break in if he isn't, but Reimon knows her well enough to know what she's thinking.

"Don't get caught," he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "He still wasn't home when Shibata went there this morning. I'm staring to think they might have bailed."  
It made them look all the more suspicious, "They couldn't have gotten that far, unless they managed to sneak out before flights were stopped." Which could very well have happened, meaning it would be that much harder to catch them. If that was the case, it would be out of her hands and all she could do was turn up the real middle-man.

Which she had every intention of doing.

"I'll call you back when I'm done looking around," she says, listening for his noise in acknowledgement before she hangs up. She runs her fingers through her hair, heaving a sigh and turning her attention to Wato. "Izumi's son is in rehab, so it wasn't him that stole the papers."

Wato frowns, looking back out the door. "Then who was it?"

"That's what we're going to go find out," she says, looking down at her phone when it buzzes, once -- then a second time.

The address, and a text from Kento informing her he's been held up.

She's not surprised.

======

The rain hasn't let up any once they arrive at West's shared apartment, leaving them to run from the cab to the protection of the building's awning. They're left standing there for a few minutes, Sherlock hitting the buzzer for West's apartment and getting no answer as she figured she would. She knows picking the front door lock is just asking to get caught and as she's considering trying to talk her way in by buzzing another apartment someone joins them at the door, fumbling with their keys to unlock it. She takes the opportunity, telling him she's here to visit someone but they weren't answering their door. She's met with an annoyed comment of the buzzer system being messed up since he moved in and he let's them in with an apology.

It's a nice place, she thinks, taking half a glance at the foyer as they walk through it to the elevator. Comfortably decorated and modern, with warm colors and pleasant lighting. The elevator ride starts off quiet -- the man who let them in having thankfully taken the stairs -- until Wato shuffles a little beside her and laughs as soon as Sherlock looks at her.

She opens her mouth to question, unable to hold back her own smile as the younger woman struggles to rein herself in. "Friends of West?" she asks between breaths, wiping her eyes. "You just made that up on the fly didn't you?"

"Yes, it worked didn't it? Given his comment about the buzzers; I'm guessing he moved in recently, since a building this well maintained otherwise doesn't seem like it would just let a problem like a malfunctioning buzzer system slide for months on end, besides most people living in apartments don't take note of their neighbors anyway, let alone who their friends are unless they're trouble." She stops when the elevator does, heading out as soon as the door opens and making her way down the hall to the apartment in question.

She knocks, then waits, listening to be sure no one was home instead of just avoiding visitors. Then casts a glance down the hall before pulling her picks out of her bag and getting to work on the lock. Wato says nothing while she works, instead taking up a position beside her to watch for anyone coming or going.

Wato still doesn't like it, but she doesn't say anything about it either.

It's something Sherlock is secretly thankful for, that while Wato might not approve of her more criminal minded habits, the other woman trusts her enough not to do something completely out of her usual bounds. She bent the law more than she broke it, using loop holes and inconsistencies to her advantage instead of staying firm to things that made no sense.

Reimon covered for her, and she did her best not to cause him too much grief. 

(It doesn't always work.)

The lock gives with a familiar snick and Sherlock slips inside with Wato on her heels, picks slipped back into her bag. They don't bother with their shoes, instead just wandering into the apartment.

It's a mess, looking like the typhoon making full landfall outside had already come through and laid waste to anything in it's way. There's a mix of papers and trash strewn across the floor, broken glass she assumes were once plates and a few cups, clothes thrown about on the furniture.

"What on earth..." Wato says, staring at the mess laid out in front of them. "It looks like they left in a hurry or had a fight."

"Or both," Sherlock supplies, exchanging a glance with the woman beside her. "Let's see what we find."

They split there, choosing a direction and beginning their own path of exploration. It's slow going, even if they both know what they're looking for and Sherlock grows increasingly exasperated the longer she picks through clothes and papers and finds nothing. At one point she looks up, catching Wato in the middle of tossing a sheaf of papers in an uncharacteristic display of frustration. Wato catches her watching and flushes at the smirk Sherlock gives her.

"It's not funny," Wato hisses at her, and Sherlock's smirk broadens into a grin as Wato retreats into another room. It leaves her with the cemented impression that there's nothing of use in this particular mess, so she wanders herself, ignoring the way the clothing pile she was picking through falls to the floor when she leaves.

She can hear Wato moving in the room over as she walks, pushing the door to a bedroom open with her fingers. She moves on when a cursory glance yields nothing but more clothes and a scattered collection of forgotten books. The second door is a bathroom, the counter scattered with various toiletries. She doesn't make it to the last door, Wato's startled yelp tearing her away from her path as she abandons the hall and makes her way to the room her partner had gone.

"Sherlock!" Wato calls just as she gets to the living room, "I found something!" Her voice echos unnaturally in the space, and it makes Sherlock wrinkle her nose in distaste as she pushes her way through the half open door and into the room Wato occupies. It's supposed to be an office but she notices it's been turned into the third bedroom. The biggest of the three, the room awkwardly laid out with the bed to her left and a desk to her right, a still open laptop sitting forgotten atop it. But that's not why she's here right now, filing the laptop away as she crosses the room to where Wato is standing.

The floor is covered in a spray of dried blood, standing out against the finished wood. Frowning, she traces the pool, gaze running up the side of the nightstand to see more blood staining the side and one corner. "Hirota was unconscious before they even used the tranquilizer on him," Sherlock muses, turning away to finally get a look at the laptop she'd seen before. She hears Wato pull open a door behind her, listening to the snick of hangers as they're shifted.

"Here's the missing uniform," Wato says after a moment, and Sherlock hits the power button on the laptop before looking up to see. It was one more piece of evidence against West and his cohorts. She watches as Wato peers into the pockets, raising her eyebrows when the other woman looks back at her with triumph. "There's keys and a syringe in the pocket here," she says, not bothering to remove them but drawing the fabric down enough Sherlock can see the head of the syringe. That's everything and Sherlock hums her approval.

"Can't you ever just say 'good work, Wato'?" She asks, and Sherlock shrugs.

"Good work, Wato."

The other woman huffs at her, rolling her eyes and leaving the uniform to hang in the makeshift closet. Sherlock returns her attention to the laptop, curious to note that there's no password. "Seems they left a lot behind they intended to get rid of," she says, looking over her shoulder long enough to pull the chair closer and sit in it. "Hirota and the Typhoon obviously made them rush. Now, let's see if this is what they used to communicate with their middle man..."

It only takes a bit of searching to find an exchange of emails between the three men and their thief. Short and to the point, the entire plan to steal Izumi's keys and break into the vault, a set meeting place and a mention of a half payment still missing. Sherlock's own plan unfolds in a matter of seconds and she gets to work, typing a message of her own in the guise of West, promising the rest of the payment tonight provided they showed up.

"Now we call Kento and Reimon and wait," she says, sitting back from the keyboard and looking up at Wato.

======

Reimon and Shibata show up before Kento, Sherlock finding a mix of amusement and annoyance when they find out that West's buzzer actually works. The sound of it jarring and startling both her and Wato (and again when Kento finally joined them, both Reimon and Shibata tensing as well) nearly as much as the thunderstorm once again raging outside. It's fitting, she thinks as they wait, all of them fixated on the windows. 

They sit like that in silence until the sun goes down, until Sherlock shifts and turns the light on nearby, pulling each of them out of their separate thoughts. Reimon checks his watch and Sherlock begins to tap out the seconds that pass on as their evening continues to crawl by. She wants to be home before the storm gets any worse, Wato curling against her side on instinct as the thunder cracks over head. Sherlock pretends not to notice, staring off at the wall.

She loses track of the time as the silence stretches between them yet again, any chance at conversation being one they couldn't have. Kento wouldn't tell them any more than he already had and Sherlock -- while curious --- didn't want to be involved with government secrets any more than she already was. So she didn't ask the question he almost seemed to be expecting she would.

The buzzer rings again and this time no one startles but they all look, and Sherlock gets up from her spot on the couch to let their visitor in. It's another wait and she spends it by the door, staring at the frame and listening until she hears barely there footsteps on the carpet outside. She pulls the door open before the person outside knocks ---

And finds herself face to face with Izumi Harue.

There's an odd feeling that settles in Sherlock's chest at the sight of the other woman's shocked features and as she tries to identify it she misses the question Harue asks her. She blinks back to focus, tilting her head. "It was you," she whispers, startled at how edged her own voice sounds.

"Excuse me?" Harue asks, nearly taking a step back if it weren't for Sherlock seizing a hold on the collar of her coat. "I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding," she says, her voice raising with the fear Sherlock sees written on her face. Sherlock pulls her inside before she attracts attention, shoving her into the entrance way and shutting the door behind her. Harue stumbles and Sherlock advances on her, forcing the older woman to keep going until she trips, falling into the living room with a sharp yelp.

Wato sits up straighter, Reimon and Kento lean from their seats and Shibata stands up from his spot against the wall. Sherlock stops at Harue's side but doesn't offer her a hand up. To her credit Harue doesn't seek one, pushing herself up to her knees.

"Izumi-san?" Wato asks, incredulous.

Harue covers her face with her hand, her breathing becoming ragged and hitching. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I know nothing I ever say will make up for what I did but I'm sorry, I had to. I had to -- for my son -- for my daughter --"

Sherlock understands what that feeling was now when it comes back, her expression twisting into a quiet scowl; it's anger. "Why?" She asks, stepping by the woman and settling on the arm of the couch. She feels Wato's hand on her arm, glances at her to see the concern on her face. Sherlock pats her hand once, in a reassuring gesture, her anger slowly bleeding away. 

"I needed the money to pay off my son's debt. He got in too deep with this local gang, so they started threatening him and even though he started selling for them it wasn't enough fast enough. And when my husband found out he was so furious and told him he needed to clean up or get out." Harue stops to take a breath, choking out a sob. "My son he -- he tried so hard, he started working even harder at his part time job to try and get the money but his addiction kept catching up to him and the gang kept pulling him deeper and deeper into debt. So I started looking for alternatives."

"West and his friends," Reimon says. "How did you come in contact with them?"

Harue takes a grounding breath, startling when Shibata hands her a tissue. "I--Thank you. I met West once at a party. A charming man, a little overzealous but he had a good heart. He went on and on about how the military and it's secret projects were going to get us all killed one day then joked that he should teach them a lesson. I didn't take him seriously until I found out later that he and his friends were harassing my husband and his people."

Sherlock nods, starting down at the carpet in front of the couch. "So when you and your husband ultimately decided to send your son to rehab you knew you had to come up with the money to avoid it becoming an issue," she says, matter-of-factly. "But your husband didn't agree, so you were forced to reach out to West." She looks up at that, pinning Harue with a stare that makes her wring her tissue between her fingers enough it rips. "Right?"

Harue nods. "I told him if he still wanted to teach the military a lesson I'd get him the plans for one of their projects provided he could help me pay off the debt. He told me he would, told me that if I got the project he wanted he'd make sure the debt was paid off and then some. So...we set it all up and I stole my husband's keys, got copies of them." She stares down at the floor, then, a bitter broken laugh catching in her chest. "I think my husband knew what I was doing, or at least had his suspicions."

"It didn't stop you, though," Sherlock presses, crossing her arms over her chest. "On the day you were supposed to meet West you snuck out and made your way to the base, but something went wrong, didn't it? Hirota caught you and recognizing you as The Colonel's wife he followed you. To the base -- and then here. He saw what you did and tried to stop this little exchange from happening and for that he died."

Thunder fills the silence this time, wind driven rain battering the windows. "Yes. You're right, he did follow me. I didn't notice until West answered the door and Hirota-san barged in after me. West and Hirota fought, I lost track of them until I heard a crash and when I found them --" She stops, taking a gulping breath.

"Hirota was unconscious, bleeding out all over the floor in West's room," Sherlock finishes, swinging her feet. "So West had a brilliant idea to get rid of Hirota where he used to work, since he hadn't brought his uniform or his keys back it made perfect sense. Tranquilize him, wait for just the right moment and lay him out on the tracks to wait until he got run over. Adding the plans was a nice touch, was that West's idea or yours?"

"Valentine's," Harue says, tone clipped. "He came home in the middle of it all, said that West wouldn't be able to copy the plans so just take what he wanted and then put the rest in Hirota-san's jacket so you would think he did it. Valentine helped West bring Hirota-san down to the tracks. I had nothing to do with that, I swear. I just -- I just brought the plans."

"Where are they now?" Kento interjects, shooting Sherlock a placating look when she glares at him for interrupting.

"Planning to head back to the United States, but I don't think they were able to beat the Typhoon out before the airports started closing down."  
Kento gets up and immediately pulls out his phone, disappearing into the entryway to presumably make some calls.

"Was it worth it?" Sherlock finally asks, "What about Jade? She's going to be left without her mother, her brother -- her father. So tell me, was it worth it? Really?"  
Harue doesn't answer, curling in on herself as she begins to sob again. It's answer enough and Sherlock rises from her perch and leaves, Wato quickly following behind her.

They meet Kento downstairs.

No one talks.

======

Several days go by of hiding in the living room with Hatano and soothing storm caused boredom with bad TV shows and then hours of conversation ranging from pointless to interesting when the power went out finally. Then they read, or spent an hour patching a leak and eventually the storm passed, the power came back on and life somewhat resumed as normal.

A week goes back before Sherlock hears anything, getting a call from Kento informing her finally that they did catch West and his friends at a hotel in Niigata. The plans had been secured and they were due in court in the next few days. 

She politely refuses his attempt to get her to come and talk with the people she'd helped.

"You're the one who deals with all the government stuff, I just solve the cases."

He huffs. "True enough."

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on [Tumblr!](http://dikhotomia.tumblr.com/)


End file.
